


Pestilentia

by WaterWych



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alien Planet, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Dark, F/F, F/M, Graphic Violence, Implied Relationships, Sci-Fi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5751082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterWych/pseuds/WaterWych
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connie Maheswaran is enlisted as a member of a search-and-rescue team sent to locate the crew of a missing scientific research vessel that emitted a distress beacon far off in deep space; with no form of communication, she and a group of military officials are forced to travel thousands of light years away to the specific location of the signal to find and rescue the missing crew. When they are within distance, however, their vessel experiences a total engine malfunction, and crashes on the planet the beacon had originated from. Stranded and utterly defenseless, Connie has to take it upon herself to pick through the rubble and locate her missing acquaintances as well as balance the fact that she must continue the original operation of finding the lost members they had originally been sent for. </p>
<p>There is an unexpected danger, however, lurking around the barren surface of the planet that is slowly consuming the individuals of her crew, leaving a messy trail of carnage and destruction that might make her think twice about the identities of the missing group of scientists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Interstellar Outline of Combating Cryogenic Nausea and Overfriendly Crewmates

Waking up to nausea was never a fair call to consciousness, but after a few years of floating in the ever fluctuating deep stasis of cryosleep, it was increased a painful tenfold. Connie Maheswaran, a young woman just approaching her twenty-fifth birthday, was hunched over a bucket that was clasped between her trembling hands, the heaving of her stomach forcing mouthfuls of bile and vomit up her throat. She failed to recall who had handed her the metallic object, having only caught a glimpse of dark hair, but a polite thank you was in order as soon as she ceased to vomit up the meal that had been sitting in her stomach for almost five years; it was a revolting thought that only made her gag harder.

Connie flinched at the hand that was suddenly pressed against her back, but when she turned to catch a glimpse of the figure who seemed to try and offer some comfort, she immediately backtracked to vomit up another mouthful. The taste was purely acidic, and it clawed at the back of her throat in irritation. Only after a few minutes of this disgustful process did she finally manage to take a clear look at the person who remained behind her.

A woman with dark skin and black curly hair smiled reassuringly at her, their full lips spreading into a wide grin. Connie could easily make out the same distasteful grey article of clothing that resembled a patient’s gown, and with a note of grimace, realized that it would take a small trek to the locker room to retrieve her possessions and change out of the drab outfit. Standing, however, wasn’t much of an option up to that point.

“Hey, how ya’ doin’? You didn’t look so good, so I wanted to see if you were fine after watching you get sick like that. Nausea hit ya’ bad, huh?” From the moment she spoke, Connie instantly came to like her voice; it was a pleasant high trill of classic African American and swayed intonation that sounded particularly interesting. Not to mention, the woman seemed just as kind.

“Y-Yeah. I’m not one for cryogenic sleep, and even during the simulations it wasn’t _that_ bad, but I guess the years just kind of built upon it.” She mumbled almost sheepishly, and the warm hand on her back disappeared as she finished speaking, leaving the area under her shoulder blade cold and devoid of heat. Hesitantly, the young woman eased the bucket out of her lap and onto the floor, her gaze turned upwards to refuse a glimpse of the pile of vomit; she was _not_ going to be set off by another surge of sickness just after she finished the last horrid bout. She shifted the glasses on the bridge of her hooked nose to happily find that they were still there after the long period of cryosleep, and with that fact in place, turned her attention back towards the older woman who remained standing.

“I know how ya’ feel. Back when I was younger, I couldn’t stand more than a few months in the cryogenic stasis without waking up feeling like crap, but I guess I kinda got used to it after some time. Ya’ know, the only way to get rid of cryogenic nausea is with a bit of water and something solid in your stomach.” Connie couldn’t help but allow a spasm of pure horror cross over her face, and she had to refrain from blushing in embarrassment as the woman proceeded to chuckle above her. She was greatly inexperienced in anything dealing with the deep stasis of frozen sleep, only having encountered such minimal events during simulations to prepare her for the long voyage, so the idea was a bemusing one; the woman did, however, understand that she was probably right given the fact she was bound to a vessel with many experienced crew members. In any case, she would just have to follow along with the older woman’s instructions.

“Are you positive that is how you counter the effect?” Connie asked with a welling sense of dismay as the woman nodded confidently.

“Yeah. That’s the only way how to get around it. You don’t want to feel like crap any longer, do ya’?

“Oh, no!” Connie waved a hand in the air to express her displeasure, quickly recalling the memory of the bucket situated under her cryo-chamber with unease. Her action elicited another round of laughter, and the African American woman slapped her on the back in mirth. Hard.

“Ah, that’s what I wanted to hear! Well, let’s get going and get dressed. Can’t walk out to the cafeteria wearing these downright _distasteful_ sleep wear, now can we? I mean,” The woman put on a show of flaunting the drab garb around like it was some kind of rag, her expression one of disgust as she playfully mocked the very article every member of the ship awoke to wearing, “ _look_ at these things! Only a cadaver would be caught _dead_ wearing something like this!” A fit of laughter escaped Connie’s lips, suddenly realizing that this act was just the other woman’s way of trying to cheer her up and get her moving. To comply with her odd dance of persuasion, she pushed herself onto her feet with trembling movements and found, to her surprise, she could move with ease despite the many years of sleep.

“Alright, I’m up now. So where’s the locker room?” The woman ceased her frantic display, and gestured with a hand to follow.

“Just come and follow me. I know where it is.” She made a move to turn around, but immediately stopped and looked back over her shoulder at Connie. “I almost forgot. The name’s Kiki. Private Kiki, but there is no need for formalities or anything like that crap.” The woman, Kiki, stated matter-of-factly as she proceeded to traverse the threshold of the now empty cryo-chamber room and down a sterile metallic hallway, Connie in tow.

“Well, finely nice to introduce myself to you, uh, Kiki, but I’m Dr. Connie Mehaswaran.” Connie announced, and though her voice was quiet, Kiki seemed to have been able to pick up the whole thing.

“A doctor, eh? That’s kinda cool. What’cha doin’ here on The Goddess anyway? Ya’ do know where this ship’s headed to, right?” Kiki had refused to turn back and look at her as she meandered smoothly down the narrow hall, edging around a corner and past a sign labeled _Forensics_ over a closed sliding door; everything was bathed in the harsh white glow of artificial lights.

“I’m heavily aware of that, but my profession also includes the condition of being able to study and document any biological lifeforms found within the confines of that planet. Most certainly my findings could help in locating the whereabouts of the missing crew.” She replied indignantly, and Kiki just shrugged her shoulders in an almost nonchalant way in response.

“Hey, whoever they send, they send. I don’t judge. Besides, we basically need all the help we can get; heaven knows what happened to them.” A silence fell over them as they continued towards the locker room, leaving each individual a moment to collection their thoughts. Everyone had been informed beforehand of the severity of the situation, and though the task at hand seemed in vain, officials had laid down a lot of money to see it through to the very end.

It was no secret when the reports about the missing crew came in on just about every news channel seven years ago when information flooded about how their vessel never returned. Reports had stated it had been around a crew of seven sent to an undisclosed planet for research or something along those lines, and the result: a distress signal thousands of light years away. Political officials who had funded the project demanded an immediate response all for the sake of saving whatever money they had left in interests, and not two years later multiple military officials and scientists were drafted and taken into consideration for who would be able to comprise this ‘search-and-rescue’ operation: Connie just happened to have been one of them. That was the only reason why she was millions of miles away from home bound to a vessel headed for an unidentified backwater planet with almost an entire crew made up of military personnel. Personally, Connie had already figured there would be no survivors in the first place, and the funds used up on transportation was all a waste.

The knowledge of this tragic situation weighed heavily in her mind and she pulled her thoughts away from the depressing topic. They had already reached the locker room in her trance, the young woman just noticing the grated dreary lockers marked with each of the crew’s name in silver tags. Seated on a bench in some of the rows were a few stragglers who were still pulling on boots, shirts, and other articles of clothing with slow, casual movements. They were all people she failed to recognize: a man with orange hair yanking on a white undershirt, a blonde woman with a pudgy build across from him pulling up a pair of baggy military pants, and another man with the oddest hair style of straight blonde hair fixed in a vertical position adjusting his glasses insouciantly. Connie quickly adjusted her gaze away before any of them could catch her stare in the anxiety of being labeled a creep, and instead started to scan the rows of lockers in search of her own.

“Hey, I’ll be over at mine changing, alright? If you’re done before me, you can wait by the threshold and we can go to the cafeteria together.” Kiki stated before turning to head down another row, her absent presence a bit nerve racking in the cramped room filled with strangers; she brushed off the unease, however, and focused her attention on scanning the fronts of the lockers for her name. Finally, she managed to find it. Scrawled in big letters on the silver tag was _Connie Mehaswaran – Doctor | Scientist – Num. 6._ Clicking it open, she sighed in relief to find all her possessions still secure where they had last been transferred before the long trip.

A photo of her aged parents with her in the center; select toiletries and a worn hairbrush; standard military-like uniform with extra shirts, pants, socks, and two pairs of issued boots; undergarments; an audio log she took extra means to see packed safely within the confines of her locker. Everything seemed to be in place and in appropriate condition, and though she could have packed a few more important belongings, keeping things organized and uncluttered was more or less the best idea.

“Finally I can get out of this scratchy outfit…” Connie muttered absentmindedly to herself as she started to slip the garb over her head not before taking a quick glance around the aisle to see if anyone was watching around the corner. The fabric clung to her almost pathetically as she tugged it off and folded it neatly to store it inside the locker, the garment just a coarse piece of grey cloth in her hands. Carefully, she pulled out one of the white undershirts and buttoned it over her black sports bra with little difficulty before reaching in to grab at a pair of long heavy black pants. It was a pain trying to fit the overly large pants over her skinny waist and legs, but to her fortune, she managed to secure a belt from the very back of the locker she had completely forgotten about and secured it around her hips. To finalize her outfit, she rolled the bottoms of the pant legs up to pull on the military standard boots which were nothing more than thick steel-toed shoes comprised of dyed black leather and polish.

Quick to close her locker and meander out of the narrow aisle, she proceeded to patiently wait for Kiki at the threshold, arms crossed and stance rigid as she leaned up against the wall lethargically. Exhaustion was weighing down on her despite the long sleep she had just woken from not some thirty minutes ago, but she speculated it was nothing more than an aftereffect of being kept in cryogenic sleep for that lengthy period of time.

_That, and the fact that I’m now practically_ starving! _I guess Kiki was kind of right about that whole ‘eat something to feel better’ thing._

Connie thought bitterly and drew her attention up from staring at her shoes to gazing at the figure who had just stepped into her line of sight, their wide smile plastered on full lips once more.

“Dang, girl, ya’ look pretty _good_ in that. Gotta make it a new fashion statement for ya’: Maheswaran is the new white and black! Pretty catchy, huh?” Kiki swept a hand over her head in an imitation of those fictional characters who are holding their sidekick companion in one arm and waving their other in an aspect of the greatness they see in the future or their protégé, but in Connie’s case, all she saw was a woman attempting a foolish action. An amusing one, however. She chuckled nonetheless and shrugged in response.

“Whatever you want to assume, I guess.” Connie replied as she finally managed to take a good look at Kiki, and, with a twinge of surprise, realized the older woman looked more comfortable in the heavy military pants and pressed jacket than she did herself. Not to mention the lonely dog tag just peeking out behind the collar of her jacket, a winking object that barely displayed itself almost purposely.

_She really was telling the truth when she said she was a Private, but she looks nothing like a military figure with that_ _kind of personality_.

“-let’s go! Ya’ don’t want to be anymore later than ya’ are, do ya’?” She was drawn from her reverie by the sound of the other woman’s trilling alto voice, and she unconsciously reacted with a quick nod of her head. Kiki spun around on her heel and walked out of the locker room with a controlled movement, and when Connie looked behind her just as she stepped out of the cramped room, she could spot the blonde woman and orange haired man from before arguing in the corner of their aisle with hushed, heated tones. She thought otherwise about interrupting their conversation and instead focused on following the African American woman down the narrow hall and to a sharp left where the ambiance of voices started to grow in volume.

Connie hesitantly stepped in, anxious of the stares she would receive, but when she noticed not one person had looked up at her for they were too busy talking or eating, her body instantly relaxed. Though it was a moderate sized room, it appeared as if was a little crowded for the amount of people located in the confines of the cafeteria – which wasn’t that much – but it served its purpose well with its array of at least five benches and single beverage stand. She trailed behind Kiki to said counter where she relieved it of a cup of warm coffee and an available tray from the few remaining that appeared to display a plate of mush with more of a consistency like dirt than food. Wrinkling her nose, she could practically hear Kiki’s smirk as she stared in distaste at the pile of slop.

“What is this?” She asked as the two of them turned around and started to head towards an empty table, strides slow and careful around the other small clusters of people who sat hunched over their trays.

“It’s the standard meals ya’ get on these kinda trips. Trust me when I say this stuff is edible and, actually, doesn’t taste half bad, but on what it is made of, I’m not quite sure. We don’t make the food. We just eat it.” Kiki replied as Connie, with a gentle thud, plopped onto the bench not before setting the tray of food down; the older woman seated herself across from her politely. Shoveling a spoonful of the brown mush into her mouth, she found that the taste was adequate even if it did bear a flavor of something stale, and she washed down the aftertaste with a bit of black coffee. It was going to be something she’d have to get used to.

“So, uh, Kiki. You seem to know what you’re doing. Would you care to pinpoint some details about the other crew members in here? I sort of like to get a sense of who I’m working with, you know?” She mumbled between a mouthful of food, Kiki nodding in response to her question before taking a swig of the bitter coffee and gesturing with her hand to a lonely person seated on the far rim of the cafeteria.

“Okay, for starters, don’t expect me to know _too_ much about the members here. They may almost be all military personnel, but I’ve nearly really talked to a lot of them. I have, however, met a few back in the day during training so I can surely give ya’ a better description on them. Well, the man I’m pointing at now is Ronaldo Fryman. I think we saw him in the locker room, but, other than that, I wouldn’t advise talking to him. He’s kinda creepy and believes alien reside over the whole flipping universe. A total nutcase who used to work selling fries at a family joint with his father and younger brother, I guess he serves as a technician for the ship due to his skills in machinery.” Connie made a mental note as she tracked Kiki’s gesture to a cluster of people situated in the center of the mess hall, two of the three individuals bearing a form of resemblance.

“So, ya’ see those two on the end?” Connie gazed at where Kiki was pointing and meticulously scanned the flaxen, pale skinned pair who talked amongst themselves, the older woman appearing in her middle age and the younger man somewhere between his late twenties and early thirties. She nodded in response.

“Yeah. What about them?”

”Well, they’re mother and son named Vidalia and Sour Cream; I’m actually good friends with Vidalia’s son since we went to high school together, and even a bit of military training until he got stationed at another base. Sour Cream was a DJ at one point, but that kinda fell apart. His mother, though, I think had it the hardest. She got pregnant with him as the illegitimate offspring of a band director at the age of twenty-one, just fresh out of high school, and had to take care of him all by herself. In my point of view, I think she did a good job. Got married to a fisherman, became a painter, and had another son. She may not look like it, but she’s actually the pilot of The Goddess.” Connie couldn’t help but gap in awe at the middle-aged woman who started to affectionately ruffle her son’s hair much to his dismay; her life story was truly interesting albeit rough, but being the pilot as well? That had to take a lot of experience and skill that she would never had thought of the woman containing. Her look of disbelief, however, was cut off when Kiki pointed to the young man around Sour Cream’s age who sat next to him, tan skin and black shades providing an almost ominous appearance.

“He’s also another good friend of Sour Cream and mine we met back in high school. His name’s Buck Dewey, and he’s the mayor’s son back in our hometown. Troublesome in the past, he kinda straightened out once he enlisted for military service as infantry. His whole loose personality,” Kiki made a cutthroat motion with a thumb and forefinger, “gone. Now, he just acts a bit stiff and collected. Get him in a good mood, though, and you’ll find out he still acts like he did back in high school.” She finishes and directs Connie’s attention over to a pair of individuals who had just stepped into the mess hall, the shock of orange hair and short companion besides them a familiar sight despite only seeing the two once.

“Over there is Lars and Sadie; I sorta knew Lars back from college, but we didn’t hang much after he dropped out. I recall hearing something about him being a gunner, but I don’t know much about the blonde woman, though. I think she was holding a position as a nurse. From what I’ve seen, they fight _a lot_ , but rather than that, they seem like a married couple, don’t ya’ think?”

“Engaged.”

“Excuse me?” Kiki looked at her in bemusement, and Connie would finally have the pleasure of knowing something she didn’t. With a composed manner, she finished.

“They’re actually engaged. I saw the engagement band on the woman’s ring finger when I went to change.” She stated matter-of-factly, trying to not let a cocky smile spread across her face as she watched Kiki’s growing confusion quickly shift into amazement.

“Wow! Ya’ got some good eyes on ya’, girl! But man, Lars though? I never thought he would straighten out enough to even _consider_ going steady with someone long enough to at least ever propose, let alone even _ask_ the question of marriage!”

“Ah, no. It’s just my glasses. I don’t actually have the greatest-“

“Nonsense! I think ya’ got a pretty nifty thing goin’ on with you.” Kiki quickly cut her off, and Connie could only sigh in acceptance at her explanation being snipped short; let her think what she wanted to. “Anyway, I’ve got one more person to point out. A ‘last but not forgotten’ sort of figure.” Slowly, Connie turned her attention to where the African American woman had gestured, and she but all felt her heart stop; sitting alone at a table was a young man with pale skin and curly black hair, the _same_ hair that she had seen when she had just awoken from cryogenic slumber and was offered a bucket to puke in. That man was the _same_ one who had been so generous as to help her.

“Hey, um, Kiki? Who is that?”

“Steven Universe.” The older woman replied, and that was all she needed to her. Instantly, she pushed herself up, abandoning the half-eaten meal and now cold coffee much to Kiki’s dismay. She would never have done this when she was younger, but she had built up a fair reserve of nerves and courage during the short course of her career that had greatly improved what little confidence she had been born with. Connie approached the man hesitantly but calmly, and cleared her throat to inspire his awareness of her.

_Breathe, Connie, just breathe. All you have to do is thank him, and it’ll be all over. Simple as that, right_?

Even if her confidence had grown in leaps and bounds, anxieties always remain, and she could have sworn she felt hers spike when she caught his gaze as he lifted his head to look at her. Black eyes bore into hers, his gaze a mess of confusion and surprise with something like an underlying tone of elation obscured beneath his murky orbs. Connie nervously stared at the man, and before she could even open her mouth to thank him, his lips curled upwards and he broke out into a wide grin.

“Aha, well, hello! Did you need something?” He asked politely, his expression having brightened up at her more relaxed stance. With a little nod, she responded.

“You’re… You’re Steven, right?”

“The one and only Steven Quartz-Universe!” The man, Steven, announced proudly, and Connie immediately took to liking his smile; he seemed joyful enough.

“Well then, Steven, I wanted to thank you from before. You’re the one who offered me that pail when I was sick, right?” She inquired, and with a small frown that flashed across his face he nodded.

“Yeah. Hey, uh, you’re not sick now, are you? That would be terrible if you’re still feeling bad!” Steven looked at her in concern, and Connie was quick to smile back at him in reassurance. He sure was odd, giving his more than adequate apprehension towards someone he had just met, but she didn’t mind; the trait made him more pleasant. With a wave of her hand, she attempted to dismiss his look of worry.

“I’m fine, really. I’ve probably been through worse than that during the simulations, but it’s eased up by now. Oh, I forgot! Excuse me for my rudeness, but I’m Connie Mehaswaran. A pleasure to finally introduce myself to you.” Connie held out a hand to the young man which he gladly accepted, and she found his handshake to be affirmative and warm. Withdrawing her appendage, she politely glanced back at Kiki to find that the African American woman was still staring, her expression one of surprise and mild adulation. Respectfully dismissing herself from Steven, she announced her leave and turned to traverse over towards the table she had practically abandoned Kiki at, and seated herself with a more or less dignified stance. She didn’t quite understand, but the notion of seeing the Private in such a state of shock made her feel much better.

_Much better than before when I felt like crap after waking up. At least I still retained my conversational skills all that time despite the loss of my lunch. Better that, however, then colloquial confidence._

“So, do you do that _all_ the time when a man in shining armor offers you an adequate pail to puke in?” Kiki joked playfully, and Connie couldn’t help but let a flush of embarrassment bloom across her cheeks. She stuttered to find a reasonable retort to her mocking jibe of light-heartedness.

“W-Well, I-He’s-It’s… He’s a nice guy, and I wanted to thank him for doing that. Just felt like I had to anyway.” Her words collapsed into oblivion as she lost any fire towards the reply, and she immediately stopped when she noticed a flicker of disbelief creep into Kiki’s dark eyes. “What?”

“What? _What_? Is that all you can say, girl? I did way more than that, and do I get a little bit of credit around here?” She crossed her arms and turned her back towards her as she spoke, blatantly tipping her head back in a manner of ignorant display. Connie instantly backtracked, desperately wracking her head for some words to appease her agitated – she wasn’t quite sure if it was more mischievous or not – companion.

“You’ve done _way_ more for me, that is true, and I am quite grateful for that. Not only did you provide me some comfort when I woke up being ill, but you also showed me where the locker room and mess hall was. Without your guidance, I’d probably have been lost by now already!” She listed off the helpfulness that Kiki had displayed throughout the short amount of time they had spoken, and before she was even done, she could have sworn she saw a smirk spreading across her rounded face. That traitor.

“Well, since ya’ _begged_ so effectively, I think I’ll forgive ya’ for now. Or maybe not!” She added quickly, a fit of laughter escaping her throat as she watched Connie’s face transform into a look of dismay. “Ah, but I’m just kiddin’! You’re a nice kid, Connie. Don’t be so gullible!” Kiki patted her on the shoulder before sidling herself around the bench back into a normal frontward position, and plunged her spoon into the greyish mush to only shove it into her mouth with disinterest. Silence befell the two as Connie returned to sipping the rest of her cold coffee and stale food, eyes wandering around the rest of the mess hall to plainly observe her cohorts. Carefully, she moved her gaze over to where the form of Steven remained, and allowed the tiniest of smiles to lift the corners of her lips upwards.

In all due time, she hoped to get to know this _Steven Quartz-Universe_ just a little more.


	2. The Close Proximities of Closet Cabins and Meeting Room Mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, Sour Cream upended his boot and hurled it at the projector with an exclamation of gallantry, the heavy object soaring through the air and smashing into the fragile machine with a loud crash. Everyone quieted down in an instant as each individual waited with baited breath in hopes of the recorded message returning to its original course, but all wishes were in vain when the same scene repeated in Spanish.

The one thing she could blatantly say she hated more than _anything_ would have to be the god awful tight spaces of the individual crew’s cabins; they were like closets than anything else with walls interlocked so close together it could practically make any non-claustrophobic person horrified of the tight spaces and low hanging ceilings. All rooms were a standard size with a single bed, two wardrobes to store clothes or display other belongings, and an incredibly small bathroom where one had to basically sit on the toilet to take a barely adequate shower. To add as a final attribute – as if the rooms weren’t hellish enough already – was the lack of air-conditioner, a feature so distressing that Connie nearly screamed in frustration when she entered the man-made hell that she’d be calling ‘home’ for at least three weeks to a good month and a half.

_Welcome to_ my _private hell where we have everything you could ever dream of! Ever desired to have the shitty mattress on old rickety bedsprings in the corner? That’s happily accessible! Like living in close quarters with nothing but a swamping heat to remind you of home? Then this closet-room is totally for you! Ever thought about having a toilet in the shower? Well, then, that is completely available! With this_ free _purchase, nothing can go wrong! More like everything in this shitty place could go horribly wrong..._

Connie thought bitterly as she grudgingly dumped the pile of her belongings onto the bed with a heavy sigh. It wasn’t like her to think badly of certain situations, but these conditions seemed more than enough to drive her over the edge; it was, however, something she’d just have to grin and bear since she practically signed herself up into this mess. Reluctantly, she started to sort out the pile that she had dropped unceremoniously onto the linen covers, hands carefully folding up shirts and rearranging fragile items as she went about and stored away the articles of clothing into the drawers. The young woman was careful when she picked up the framed image of her parents with her very self in the center, a gentle smile touching her lips as she studied their aged faces and greying hair. They seemed happy in the photo with her arms swung around them in a hug, a photo of a long passed twentieth birthday only a few days before she left, and she suddenly felt a spike of sorrow wash over her.

Did they even remember her? Were they still alive and well, knowing that their daughter was thousands of light years away with not a single instant of being able to contact them? It was a saddening thought, and Connie frowned as she felt her eyebrows furrow in distress.

_I’d forgotten how much I missed my parents. I hope they’re okay._

She contemplated as she set the photo down onto the top of the wardrobe, hoping that maybe her dark eyes weren’t reddening and her cheeks weren’t starting to get stained with tears. Connie fought back the wave of emotion and instead busied herself with sorting out the very few toiletries she had brought along with her, checking to make sure they were all accounted for before turning to take a step into the cramped bathroom. It was an absolute nightmare trying to shove everything into the tiny storage space underneath the sink, and when she tried to rinse her hands off after crawling around on the floor, she groaned in irritation at the barely functioning faucet.

“Is everything here derisory?” Connie said out loud before she attempted a failed exit out of the bathroom, bumping her head against the doorway and nearly stumbling over the uplifted edge of the carpet in her frantic escape to prevent herself from smashing into the surface. It was frustrating to meander around the closet-like space, and though the young woman desperately wanted to give up and just forget about the remaining objects on the bed, she knew she needed to get them stowed away properly lest she want to find something of value missing hours later. Securing the second pair of boots under the bed and the rest of her pants and undergarments safely in the drawer, she finally paused to take a glimpse at the audio log she had smuggled into her locker all those years ago.

The object, once a polished black of silicon screen and protective casing, was now a chipped bent machine damaged over her childhood and adolescent days from one too many drops down the stairs and onto the pavement. She could be charged of being extremely clumsy when she was younger, but that, fortunately, had been a trait she eventually grew out of much to her parents’ chagrin of her being a klutz for the rest of her life. She had acquired the audio log on her eighth birthday when that type of configuration had been in style, but now, it was outdated by at least twenty years; she had logs from every year up until the last five due to the lengthy stasis of a frozen sleep, and despite it being damaged beyond repair, she never had the heart to throw it out when she was younger. It contained far too many valuable memories to just simply toss it out. Snapping the button on top of the rectangular pad, she watched as the screen booted up with a flicker of life and a mechanical voice asking for a vocal recognition.

“Connie Mehaswaran.” She stated bluntly, and with a slow whirl of processing information, the screen unlocked to display multiple files of different logs, all dated with the years when they had been recorded. With the audio log clutched firmly in her left hand, she seated herself onto the bed not before wrinkling her nose at its musty smell, carefully folding her legs beneath her as she slid her thumb around the screen and pulled open a blank file which she quickly tapped _Record_. Slipping a piece of long black hair behind her ear to make herself a little more presentable to the camera, she cleared her throat to speak just as the recording started with a sharp noise of confirmation.

“This is Dr. Connie Mehaswaran recording from my closet-like cabin in The Goddess some thousands of light years away from home. It is approximately the day of November twenty-ninth, and the year is twenty one-hundred and five. About two hours ago, the entire crew of eight – myself included – awoke from a long five year cryo-sleep. With the assistance of an older woman named Kiki, I managed to sort myself out and eventually find my compartment here. Hopefully, I’ve heard rumors we’ll be landing in about two days or sooner to start progress on locating the missing crew. I-“ A knock on the sliding door drew her from her focus, her head craning to direct her voice towards the source of the noise as she attempted to buy herself a few more seconds of time to record. “Just give me a second! Anyway, I have to cut this short, but I’ll be recording more information later about the search-and-rescue operation later. It’s open!” Just as she yelled out her affirmation to the figure standing in front of her door, it slid open with a resonating click.

“Hey, girl, we gotta get ready! Ya’ know the meeting is in a few minutes, right?” It was the familiar voice of Kiki. Connie glanced over at the African American woman and slipped the audio log under her pillow, swiftly scrambling off the bed and out the doorway where the other woman paused for her in politeness.

“Yeah, sorry. Just got a bit carried away storing all my belongings in those little cubbyholes the designers of this ship call ‘drawers’.” Her words elicited a choked laugh from Kiki who slapped her playfully on the back once more in an unconstrained mirth, and though it hurt, Connie couldn’t help but smile through the pain.

“I know, right? I mean, what’s the _deal_ with these small compartments? I understand we’re not kings or queens, or anything in that matter, but they could have at _least_ given us more room to store our belongings, couldn’t they? I could hardly fit all my clothes in those drawers let alone under the bed.”

“I wish they could have provided us better washrooms.” Connie added pliantly as they proceeded to traverse down the narrow hallway towards the conference room, the corridor all but empty save for a late straggler who had just emerged from his room, blonde hair unkempt and glasses crooked in front of tired eyes as if he had just woken from a short lived nap. The journey was a short lived walk past two left turns and a right until they reached the end of a hall where a wide threshold exposed the view of a dark room with dimmed lights, individuals already having seated themselves among the chairs bolted into the floor. Connie could easily make out that almost everyone had arrived save for a few, evident by a section of empty seats in the back corners.

“Hey, Connie, come on, girl! I think I saw two open seats in the front.” Kiki prompted her into action, and the two carefully edged around the two rows of seats until they encountered the empty ones which they gladly claimed in gusto. Plopping herself down into the chair, Connie almost cringed at the cool metal pressing against her back, but she swallowed the gripe that threatened to rise in the thought that if _she_ was feeling it, everyone else was too.

_Honestly, could anything get worse on this ‘state-of-the-art’ vess-_

The young woman was pulled from her thought as she felt a sudden tap on her shoulder, and even if it was hardly noticeable, she definitely felt it against the thin material of her shirt. Shifting her gaze behind her, she noticed the sheepish smile of the pudgy blonde woman – Sadie, she recalled – who had prodded her cautiously; Connie recognized the orange haired man next to her, the one she remembered as Lars who looked more or less pissed to be in the room amongst the cluster of crew members, his expression one of agitation and boredom. Before she could open her mouth to inquiry what the smaller woman’s action was for, the flaxen haired nurse spoke first.

“Hey, sorry about that, but I just wanted to get your attention. I saw you around before yet I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself to you. Hi, I’m Sadie.” She announced, producing a chubby hand outwards towards Connie. The young woman accepted her offer and just as she pulled away from the warm handshake, she caught the flash of a simple band with a single, small diamond embedded in the very center. Engaged was purely correct.

“I’m Connie, Connie Mehaswaran. I assume that must be Lars, correct?” Connie gestured to the sullen man besides Sadie who refused to look at her the whole time, his ignorant air something that both insulted and unfazed her. She glanced at Sadie nervously, but the woman had stopped looking at her; instead, she was staring at him – her _fiancé_ – with a look of pure annoyance. With a powerful elbow to his side, she managed to capture a hiss of pain and a whispered string of curse words as he jerked around to glare at his fiancée.

“What the hell was that for, Sadie?!” He snapped, arms instantly drawing up to cross over his chest in a form of defiance and anger. Connie noticed the way his index finger tapped against his elbow, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he contained a nervous tick or was just compensating for a mounting ire.

“Be nice, Lars, and introduce yourself! You _promised_ you were going to be more considerate, remember?” Sadie heatedly whispered to him, and he would have just waved her off like a simple pest if he hadn’t shrunk back when she raised her elbow in preparation to smash him in the ribs once more. Connie had to hold back a laugh at witnessing some form of terror pass over his dark eyes, but she vainly tried to be polite as possible as the man straightened up and coughed to hide what had just transpired. Connie was starting to like Sadie more and more with her boisterous yet sweet personality. Carefully, Lars looked as if he was mulling over some choice words in his head, and not just seconds later, a devious smirk stretched across his face accompanied by a flicker of roguish animosity in the depths of his dark orbs.

“You know what they say about _assume_ , lady. It makes an _ass_ out of _u_ and _m-_ “

“Lars, don’t say that!” Sadie vehemently cut him off, a contrite look of shame crossing over her expression as she apologetically glanced over at Connie. “I’m sorry, Connie. Lars isn’t usually this _vulgar_.” The blonde woman fixed a cross stare at the orange haired man who only shrugged under her intense gaze, his arms folding behind his head as he leaned back ever so smugly in the chair with a quality of pure triumph.

“You should know how _I_ work by now, baby. We are going to get marr-“

“Shh, Lars, shut up!” Sadie hissed him into silence, the look of confidence on his face replaced by surprise as Connie turned to replace her attention onto the screen that had just rolled down from the ceiling and into existence. The gentle murmurings of the people behind them had all but ceased as everyone stopped to stare, an atmosphere of anticipation welling up within the large room when a hologram suddenly flickered to life.

“Welcome crew of The Goddess! My name is Mr. Smiley, and if you are receiving this recorded message that means that the year is two thousand one-hundred and five! Congratulations on reaching your coordinated destination through your ship’s autopilot connection!” A man with an impossibly wide grin jumps about the screen like a fool, dark skin almost appearing black in the faulty projection light that keeps fizzling every occasional moment. His voice is far too eager, and if Connie would have thought differently, it appeared as if he was more in pain than in elation. Collective voices in the background behind her expressed their distaste and annoyance at the overly friendly man, but for the sake of listening to the necessary information, they keep quiet.

“Just below this vessel is a planet known as TRG-486 where the signal of distress was initiated from the missing crew 16-B9. It is the collective skill of your _amazing_ team that will help locate the missing individuals of 16-B9. First off, however, you can’t just land willy-nilly without understanding a few things about planet TRG-486!”

“I don’t know about you guys, but to me it sounds like he’s being held at gunpoint.” A voice arose from the back, low but audible over Mr. Smiley’s energetic voice, and Connie took a quick glimpse to catch the owner of the alto-like tone. The young woman was met with the half concealed sight of Vidalia, her face taut and drawn down in a look of unadulterated disgust. That could, however, explain why he emphasized _amazing_ like it was the best word in the existence of the whole English vocabulary.

“Planet TRG-486 is filled with hospitable atmosphere featuring plenty of oxygen, but _horrifying_ amounts of sulfuric acid contained in the acid rain that occasionally pours on the surface! Better pack your umbrella!” The crappy graphics of Mr. Smiley making a grab for an umbrella that was obviously animated in did not fail to stifle the sudden change of atmosphere in the cold room. Instead, hushed voices of unease spread like wildfire; that was, though, until a glitch in the system trapped the holographic man in an endless spiral of lunging at the invisible umbrella over and over again in an almost comedic display. The stressful air quickly fluctuated into one of frustration.

“Aw, come on!” Connie distinctly heard Lars yell out from behind her as he stood to make his point at the shorting video.

“Isn’t there an off switch or something?” The man named Buck Dewey called out, slipping off his shades to catch a better glimpse of anything that could shut down the faulty recording. Connie looked at Kiki who only shrugged nonchalantly in reaction to the chaotic scene unfolding around them, a small smile of amusement dancing across her full lips. Suddenly, Sour Cream upended his boot and hurled it at the projector with an exclamation of gallantry, the heavy object soaring through the air and smashing into the fragile object with a loud crash. Everything quieted down in an instant as each individual waited with baited breath in hopes of the recording returning to its original course, but all wishes were in vain when the same scene repeated in Spanish.

“Mejor empacar su paraguas!” Mr. Smiley boldly stated in a shitty audio recorded over his of another man with a Spanish accent as he lunged for the umbrella once more, but instantly clipped to replicate the section in German. “Besser packen Ihren Regenschirm!” The audio continued to cycle through a collection of languages involving Chinese, Japanese, Russian, Arabic, Italian, and French before it decided to remain on Polish for the duration of the video until it _finally_ resolved to cut out once and for all, shutting off with a resonating click of the hologram powering down. The room was filled with an unsettling quietness, and Connie couldn’t help but sink down just a little more in her chair at the uneasiness. Nobody moved until Vidalia eased herself out of her seat, toleration past its limits.

“Alright, I don’t know about everyone, but I think that was a _wonderful_ way to start off the opening of our operation, don’t you? Faulty technology is just exactly what we need.” Her words dripped with sarcasm as the middle aged woman prompted her son to retrieve his missing shoe and turned to leave, her movements practically opening a gateway as the rest of the crew stood to head back to whatever they had been doing beforehand. Connie was silent as she shuffled out of the room with Kiki and Sadie trailing just behind them, her mind consumed with a nagging thought that chewed languidly at the back of her consciousness. It was a worrisome weight that hung heavily over her, and even though she failed to be superstitious, something felt like a bad omen just waiting to strike.

“-onnie. Connie! Hey, Connie, you okay?” The woman in question nearly flinched when she encountered Sadie’s worried stare, and she dismissively waved her off with a hand to counter the surprised look that had bloomed over her own face in the close proximity.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It just seemed, I don’t know, a little… ominous?” Connie guessed, looking over at her two companions for aid in what she was trying to convey.

“Well, shortages in electricity happen all the time, so you shouldn’t be worried so much about that.” Sadie attempted weakly, but Connie was not fooled; she could vaguely make out the smallest flicker of nervousness in her eyes and the way her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as she spoke, but when she wanted to clarify that Sadie was positively _sure_ nothing was going to befall them, the impatient tone of Lars drowned her out.

“Hey, Sadie! We going or not?”

“I’m coming, Lars, just give me a second!” Sadie craned her head to look at the orange haired man who rested up against the wall in blatant boredom, his arms crossed over his chest and gaze lowered to the walkway in displeasure.

_It’s kind of sweet he chose to wait for her instead of just walking off with everyone else._

Connie found herself thinking as Sadie stated her valedictions and traversed over to where Lars stood, the couple passing down the hall and behind a corner out of sight with a last wave from the small woman; heaving a heavy sigh, she turned towards Kiki.

“I’m going to head back to my closet and get a few last things done. Besides, I can really use the rest after all that ‘ _amazing’_ excitement.” Connie quoted from which she earned a small smile, Kiki’s lips curling upwards to show off a peek of unnatural pearly white teeth.

“If ya’ want to, Connie. I’ve got a few friends to catch up with anyway, so I’ll talk to ya’ later.” The hand on her shoulder was comforting as Kiki stepped away from her and down the hall, Connie following suit to head back to her quarters. The short walk back seemed longer with the absence of any company whatsoever, and she couldn’t help but smile in relief at the sight of her cabin’s number imprinted in the tag above the sliding door: _Num. 6_. Connie waited patiently for the door to slide open before stepping in, and though the stifling heat was unbearable, she could care less as a sudden wave of fatigue rushed over her. Carefully sliding the audio log she had almost overlooked under the pillow, the young woman stowed it away under a pile of shirts in the drawer before clambering onto the bed at a lethargic pace, curling on top of the linen covers wearily.

As Connie drifted off into the pleasantries of a well-deserved sleep, she had completely forgotten about the young man who had failed to show up to the meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if the Spanish and German is off; I kind of used Google Translate in getting the correct words, so if it doesn't make a lot of sense to people who understand those languages, I'm sorry. In all hopes, however, I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter as it was a complete blast to write; I was laughing the entire time when I was making this scene up in my head, and I want to know if you laughed too! Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this probably around last summer when my family and I were taking a road trip down the west coast. With no internet and just my laptop, I decided I might as well be productive away from home; this is what was conceived during the long hours of being cooped up in a RV with nothing but the forests for scenery, and a few science fiction movies in mind. I hope you enjoyed reading this, because I'm contemplating on turning it into a multi-chapter story if anyone is interested since it was such a pleasure to write.


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